Be My Bruise
by gotguiltypleasures
Summary: Fitz's longing is becoming too much to contain. As their feud continues, Eli must face the reality of his own feelings, torn as they may be. Elitz and Eclare.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is a fairly short beginning, but I do plan to develop this into a full story. I haven't published any writing for quite a while, so please do be patient with me (and with my writer's block).**

**I do not own Degrassi or any of its characters (unfortunately!).  
**

To Fitz, the worst part about fighting was always the smell. Sweat like salty sea-sickness. Blood like corroding metal. Dirt. Hot, sticky breath.

The best part was the therapy. It felt good to split a lip or bruise an eye, just to know that he could. The feel of vulnerable flesh giving way under his driving knuckles gave him a twisted high. It was a sort of sick relief. He didn't have to answer to anyone in a fight. He fought smaller kids and he won. Winning was the cherry on top of it all. Winning meant that he was superior.

Eli Goldsworthy disrupted this pattern. He was shorter than Fitz – paler, weirder. His punk-ass mouth begged to be smashed in with every passing remark. But he matched Fitz. Eli could hold his own in a fight, and he fought dirty. He played mind games, laid traps, flirted with authority in a way that drove Fitz to the teetering edge of his sanity. The boy was so absolutely intolerable, but Fitz could not stay away.

Everywhere he went, there was Eli. Every move he made, Eli. Every word, every thought, every blink, every nightmare – Eli, Eli, Eli, Eli. He was in Fitz's head. The Dot for lunch? What if Eli's there? He could do something to the food. He could frame Fitz for something somehow. Eli always had a way. It all came down to waiting for the next strike. Fitz was nervous about what could come, but a part of him was oddly excited. Eli unnerved him as no one else ever had. Any physical altercation left the bully feeling giddy and flushed, though not from the exercise. The day at the convenience store when – for a brief moment – Eli had Fitz pinned beneath him, Fitz had been deliriously distracted by Eli's bloodied and full bottom lip, and the way his dark hair curtained one flashing emerald eye. These fleeting thoughts only made Fitz struggle harder, desperate to pound away any further observations.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Maybe Clare's right. About Fitz."

Eli spared a rare glance away from The Goon to raise an eyebrow at Adam.

"Go on."

Adam shifted uncomfortably before speaking again. "Would it be so bad if you just left it alone? You got the guy arrested. Isn't that enough?"

"He's a jerk. He needs to be shown that there are some people that he can't just push around." Eli put up a hand to stop Adam's retort. "Must we waste our spare discussing that neanderthal again?"

"Fine," Adam conceded. "How are things with Clare?"

With a sigh, Eli shot Adam a look. The younger boy through his hands up in frustration.

"When you're not talking about destroying Fitz, you're blabbering on about Clare. If you don't want to talk about either one, I guess we can just sit here in silence."

"Thank you." Eli returned to his comic, not wanting to think about Clare Edwards just then. Not wanting to bring up the color of her eyes and the way they sparkled in the sun. Avoiding the subject of her cinnamon locks cropped to perfection. He did not want to tell Adam that Clare's voice reminded him of the heart-warming hum of Morty's engine, or that watching her move was like living poetry. Sometimes he wished that these feelings would melt away, but he knew better than that. Clare moved the earth he stood on the day they met, causing him to stumble and fall at her feet. She astounded him.

However, they had agreed to "take time." Time for Eli to accept that it was okay to continue on after Julia. Time for his heart to mend. The trouble was that he was fairly certain his heart would never fully mend, and even if it could, he did not care. The wild thumping in his chest at the mere sound of Clare's name made it all too clear that his feelings for her could not be ignored any longer.

"I like her," Eli muttered half to himself.

"Really? Hadn't noticed," Adam sneered, not even looking up. "What are you going to do about it, man?"

Much to his own dismay, Eli did not have any sort of brilliant plan up his sleeve. He thought of Clare and all he could see was kissing her. All he could feel were her fingers in his hair. All he could taste were her trembling lips, and Eli's mind broiled to the point of combustion.

**Please review! Thank you for reading. Much love. :]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thank you for the kind reviews on here and on my tumblr. You're too kind. :] As for this chapter, I'm not sure if I like it yet. But I hope you do!  
**

Eli was starting to hate "time."

It changed everything.

Clare was more reserved than ever around him now. She spoke with great caution as though the wrong words might shatter him to oblivion. Every smirk had her looking away and she reigned in that adorable laugh when he attempted to verbally spar with her. The flirting had been removed, and Eli could not stand its absence. At lunch, Clare had taken to sitting on Adam's side of the table and staring at her food when she addressed Eli – if she addressed him at all.

"If you sigh one more time, I'm getting you an inhaler." As much as Adam liked his friend, Eli's silent pining drove him mad. "Just ask her to sit next to you today, if it's so important."

"I can't just _ask_, Adam."

"Well, what do you want me to say, Eli? Do you want me to put my stuff on this seat so she _has_ to sit by you?"

A strange grunt rumbled from Eli's throat as he tried to pretend that he didn't want exactly what his friend had offered. Adam wasn't fooled for a moment. With a roll of his eyes, he hefted his bag into the empty seat.

"You are pathetic."

Eli pretended not to hear.

The moment that Clare entered a room was palpable to Eli. Something shifted in the air, as though the oxygen itself had turned honey-sweet. Chatter dulled when he heard her voice, even across the crowded caf. It was cliché – stupid, really – but the seconds seemed to tick by more slowly as she approached, as her ice-shard eyes met his in a brief moment strung out over so many elongated nanoseconds. Often he would notice her inhale sharply at their eye contact, eliciting a smirk half because Eli knew it made her squirm and half because he knew she felt it, too. The electricity between them, their alignment, all of it.

Only now, Clare attempted no such connection. Her focus was on the floor's tile pattern as she picked her way through rowdy groups to their usual table. When she noticed her desired seat was occupied by Adam's school things, she hesitated abruptly. Eli's eyes darkened and he furrowed his brow.

_'Is this really what we've come to, Clare?' _He thought, exasperated. _'Is this what "time" means to you?'_

Polite as ever and attempting to save face, Clare smiled quickly – not the endearing smile that made Eli's heart roll, but a harried, apologetic grimace – and sat in the only available seat.

Adam shrugged off the awkward silence by mentioning something about Drew and Alli, a topic that Clare gratefully latched on to. She was desperate for a distraction, the obvious color in her face having not yet faded from her initial arrival at the table. Eli tried to think again and again of something to say, anything to break down the strange new wall between them, but Clare's warm vanilla scent intoxicated his senses. All other thoughts were shunted aside to make way for dizzy daydreams.

_Kissing._

_ Kissing in the park._

_ On a picnic table._

_ In the shade._

_ Sun spots filtering through leaves, dusting Clare's hair with warm flecks of light._

_ The goosebumps on her arms._

_ Her shirt's fabric so soft under his hand._

_ That melted, breathless look she had..._

"What did you do this time?"

Clare was speaking.

She was speaking to Eli.

"Going to have to be more specific than that, Edwards." It came out more roughly than he had hoped, which he instantly regretted. She bit a nervous lip.

"What did you do to Fitz?"

Their _Romeo and Juliet_ scene faded completely from his mind's eye at the name.

"Nothing since the fake ID. Why, St. Clare? Are you suggesting that it's time to stir up something new?" Eli teased darkly.

Clare tilted her head in annoyance and ignored his idiocy.

"It's just that he's been staring at you like he's out for blood or something."

Hardly surprised, almost bored, Eli scanned the surrounding tables for his nemesis.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Clare Edwards was cute, Fitz had to admit. Her hair curled just the right way and she had the prettiest blue eyes he'd ever seen. But Fitz loathed her. His contempt was inexplicable to most, uncalled for, even. She was such a kind person. But when Eli looked at her that way – like she was some sort of sun that he revolved around – bile coated Fitz's throat.

_'No,' _he chided himself. _'Shut up. That doesn't matter. __**He**__ doesn't matter.'_

But he did.

Eli's gaze was only for Clare and the jealousy clawed brutally at Fitz's insides.

Damn him. Damn his black-sharpied fingernails and his stupid headphones. Damn his big, creepy old hearse. Damn his shaggy black hair and the way it made him look like some sort of brooding young god. Damn his skinny jeans, his buckled boots, his black blazer. Damn the way his silver necklace reflected light dully onto the soft skin of his neck, shedding an ethereal glow above his collar bone. Damn his enchanting smirk and eyes full of mirth and forest greens. Damn his voice echoing like a sinful lullaby in Fitz's head. Damn him, _damn him!_

Much too late, Fitz realized that his internal rant had auto-aimed his stare directly at Eli. When the two boys' eyes met through hoards of shouting teenagers, Fitz involuntarily blushed.

"I'm out," he snarled to Owen, making a quick exit before the jock could respond.

_Slam._

_ Slam._

_ Slam._

_ Slam._

Fitz's fist bounced back from the denting locker over and over again. Some tender part of his brain was struggling to warn him that his knuckles were bruising, but he paid no attention.

He shouldn't be feeling this way. He _hated _Eli, didn't he? Stupid little goth boy. Surely Fitz only wanted to touch him so that he could make him bleed. But, no. He ached to feel Eli's warmth beside him, to weave his bruised fingers through dark locks. He longed to taste the boy's witty tongue and steal away what chaste little Clare would never dare to dream of.

When Eli left the caf, he found the lanky bully leaned up against his locker which was now mysteriously dented.

"Goldsworthy." Fitz's tone danced mockingly over each syllable.

"Big word for you," Eli quipped. "I'm proud. Now move."

Eli's fiery retorts only intensified Fitz's need to get his hands on the boy. The feeling frightened him. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep cool.

"Say please first."

And there it was. The smirk. Advancing toward him. Eli was close enough to smell. Fitz felt breath on his face and reeled. Close enough to taste.

"Please move," Eli tried again, feigning politeness. "Neanderthal."

Finally Fitz had found his chance. He wasted no time gripping Eli's lapels tightly and slamming the boy up against a locker once, twice, again, again. Eli struggled, shoving at the broad chest in front of him. His open palms pressed against Fitz's torso, but the boy had no idea about the series of feverish thoughts this action set flying behind his attacker's eyes. Somewhere Clare's voice was urgent.

_"Teacher!"_

Fitz didn't care, and for some reason, neither did Eli. He finally got the upper hand, knocking the taller boy to the linoleum and clambering on top of him. His blows were welcome to Fitz. A punch to the jaw was somehow more pleasurable when it came from Eli. Perhaps it was the fact that in that moment, Clare didn't matter. Fitz had Eli's full attention, his full weight on top of him, and his full lips smirking down as Fitz's vision developed spots from repeated hits. It was a strange bliss, however short-lived.

"Gentlemen!" Coach Armstrong easily muscled the two boys apart. Only then did Fitz notice the sticky wetness dripping down his own neck and the ring of students eager for a little drama to color their gray-scale school day.

"Detention, and Mr. Fitzgerald, this is your last warning. You should both know better than this by now." Armstrong eyed all of the occupants of the hallway with disapproval. "To class, all of you! Go on, get going. Nothing to see. Move it."

His orders got softer as he went back to his classroom to fill out tedious detention slips as the bell rang. Eli jogged to catch up with Clare and no doubt attempt to convince her that the scuffle was a necessity, and Fitz could not help but allow his bloodied lips their own private smirk.

Eli's hair always looked good all tousled after a fight.

**Now what to do next, eh? ****PLEASE review! Thank you for reading.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you again for the reviews. Keep them coming! I like to know that my hard work isn't going to waste. :] And thank you for your patience. I want to turn out good stuff and not give you lame, hastily-written installments.**

**And again, this one is pretty short. I'm sorry! I'm going to try to make the next few longer.  
**

Mark Fitzgerald was a Degrassi detention regular. He was at the point where he didn't mind all that much about staying after school. There wasn't anything better to do, seeing how his friends were usually doing time with him. Besides, Ms. Oh wasn't bad to look at. Neither was Bianca. However, Fitz was more than a little distracted by the new addition to detention that afternoon. Eli's lip was still healing from their fight at the convenience store earlier that week. The split made his smug smirk even more irresistible, though whether the urge was to punch or kiss remained unclear. He was running a black-nailed finger over a paper – probably some English assignment – and on occasion would chuckle or shake his head minutely. When he pulled a pen from his bag and began to notate on the back of the essay, Eli sighed, and Fitz felt oddly weak. The dark-haired boy's simple act of sighing drew his silent admirer in. He wished to know what had moved the other boy to such an exasperated yet affectionate expulsion of breath. He wished for each chuckle to be a joke between the two of them alone, and each head shake to be a flirtatious moment returned.

"Are you trying to figure out the best way to ask him to the dance or something?"

"What?"

Bianca smirked at Fitz. "You've been gazing all goo-goo eyed at that goth kid this whole time."

"What the hell are you talking about, Bee?" He sounded more defensive than he meant to.

"I hear Riley and Zane are up for King and King. You and Eli could give them a run for their money, I bet."

Fitz's blood went cold. She _knew._ No. No, how could Bianca know? But aren't girls supposed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing? What if she told Owen? Would she do that? Or would she keep quiet if he asked her to? She wasn't keeping very quiet now, in any case. Anyone could hear her. Eli. Eli was mere feet away. If he heard...

"Shut up," Fitz snarled.

"I was only joking, idiot. God, what's wrong with you today?"

Ms. Oh's icy over-the-glasses glare fell on the two delinquents and they ceased conversation. Fitz returned to watching Eli in peace. He tried to imagine what sort of paper the boy was writing. A review on a novel for class? Boring. That would hardly elicit such smirk-filled readings. It had to be about something he enjoyed. Perhaps it was music, vintage cars, maybe even death. Rumor had it that he was death-obsessed – probably true, now that Fitz thought about it. That had to be why he sought fights over and over again. Eli would not have any other reason to take such an avid interest in Fitz. It was only the feud.

_Isn't it? Of – of course... he doesn't... he couldn't feel like I... right?But if he did, we could maybe... Who am I kidding? Snap out of it, Fitzy. He hates you. You should hate him. Don't be such a dumbass._

Still, the new notion sent him reeling and in need of a distraction. He remembered the paper on Eli's desk. Carefully, Fitz shifted in his seat to get a closer look. The content itself was too hard to make out from far away, but he could plainly see that the paper's heading did not list Eli Goldsworthy's name as author. It belonged to Clare Edwards.

Of course. All the stupid grinning, laughing, _sighing_: it was all for her. The notes he consistently flipped the page to write were obviously some sort of critique for her. That infinitesimal glimmer of hope that shone and refracted Fitz's darkest daydreams stuttered out at this realization, and his foolish heart sank.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

For someone stuck in detention, Eli was feeling pleasantly light. His first – and only, as he had promised Clare – stint in public school's version of jail was the perfect amount of time to read and critique his English partner's assignment before meeting for coffee at The Dot.

His English partner.

Clare.

Clare, who was sympathetic once he had explained to her that the after-lunch fight had been instigated by Fitz. Clare, who, after listening to advice from Adam, apologized for being so cold before. Clare, who had chatted airily with Eli all through Ms. Dawes class as though things were back to normal. Clare, who had agreed to a coffee date later that evening. Clare, who smiled her sweet, genuine smile goodbye after walking him to detention. Clare, whose writing was excellent but still adorably over-structured.

Eli made extensive notes on the back of her paper as he read, getting distracted here and there by an especially typical Clare expression or impressive samples of raw truth: signs that she was taking some of his critique to heart. Ceratin things she wrote would remind him of something that happened, something she said, and he'd be gone for a few minutes, content to relive every detail of their time together. Wrapped up in his own mind, Eli had all but forgotten the people around him. That disconnect unfortunately could not last.

"Writing love notes, Eli?" Fitz dragged out the sharp vowels of his name in hushed sing-song tones. "Telling Saint Clare that you _wuuuuv _her?"

A smirk automatically tugged at the corner of Eli's mouth. "You've been watching me, have you, Fitzy Boy? See something you like?"

The reaction to this comment was confoundedly inexplicable. He noticed the bully's eyes momentarily widen, his breath catch in his chest as though Eli had caught him stealing. But as quickly as he had tensed, Fitz relaxed back into his smarmy self and Eli wondered if he had imagined it.

"You wish, freak," Fitz quietly sneered. "What's wrong, is the Saint of Prude not giving you any loving? Need a little something on the side to quench your thirst?"

At the mention of Clare, Eli bristled. _That's right, come after her when we're under teacher supervision so I can't do anything about it. Asshole. If we were off school grounds, I swear..._

_ 'I thought violence wasn't your style.' _Clare's voice rang out in his head, wind chimes in a summer breeze. She wouldn't approve of any more sparring. He breathed deeply and took up his smirk once more.

"Sorry, Fitzy. You're not exactly my type."

Fitz coughed out a husky laugh that caught Ms. Oh's attention. She stared them down for a moment, but exhaustion from a long day was evident on her face. She wasn't interested in watching them or keeping them quiet.

"Just go," the young teacher sighed, already gathering her things. "You're done in five minutes anyway. Only this once, Miss DeSousa. Don't get any big ideas."

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

Morty choked a bit, then settled into a disgruntled pur. Eli patted the dash affectionately.

"It's alright, boy, you can do it. Just get me to The Dot and home and I promise you can die there, okay?" He glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror to check his appearance before his coffee date. A figure moving across the lot caught his eye. Fitz was climbing into Bianca's car, laughing about something the girl had just said as she gunned the engine to life. They sped past Morty on their way out to the street, and Fitz looked over at him. Though he expected threatening contempt, Eli could have sworn that his enemy's eyes were wistful, and that he had sighed before the car trundled out of sight.

**Review review review! And if you want, follow me on tumblr. My link is in my profile.  
**

**Thanks as always for reading! :]  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Again, this is not as long as I wanted it to be, but I struggled to power through my writer's block and achieved basically what I wanted to achieve. Thank you for the reviews and the messages on tumblr. You're all so sweet! I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will do my very best to get another update up soon. :]**

"Eli? _Eli? _Honestly, where is your head tonight?"

Eli blinked rapidly in an attempt to come back to his present company. Clare's eyes were an ocean before him and he felt as though he were floating upon the waves he found there, content in the warmth of her sunshine-smile. This was right – the way things should be. He would not tell her what his thoughts were just a moment before; she did not need to know that he was wondering about Fitz's last look in the parking lot, the wild explanations Eli kept imagining and discarding, or how oddly flustered it all made him feel. _He's just trying to get in your head, that's all,_ Eli assured himself. _And you're letting him. Forget about it. You don't have to deal with him now. Clare is right there in front of you. One battle at a time, one at a time..._

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

Clare narrowed her eyes, but a smile still played on her pink lips. "I was telling you all about how I took notes on your seriously wordy paper. Haven't you ever heard that less is more?"

"Says the queen of over-structuring."

"You can't over-structure a paper."

"But _you _can."

She huffed a little and the air fluttered the curls that fell so delicately across her forehead. _God, she's cute._

"Just give me your notes, Edwards," he smirked, reaching for them. Red pen marred the once-clean paper as though Clare had waged a bloody war with his extraneous adjectives and – by the look of it – won.

"Was the slaughter fun for you?" He held his assignment up with mock-offense on his face.

"I may have been a little over-zealous with my red pen. You're one to talk, anyway. There's an entire novel on the back of this."

"Don't pretend you'll actually pay attention to any of my notes anyway." Eli leaned in toward his English partner as he spoke, and she blushed. Flustered, she reached for her bag.

"So, have you started on the new assignment yet? I was thinking about branching out a little and maybe writing from a different point-" Eli's hand caught hers to stop it from pulling out her notebook, and Clare lost her train of thought. She met his eye with a timidity that made her look even more angelic.

"Let's talk about something else." His tone was more serious than usual.

"Eli, I told you that you could have all the time you need. I – I hope you don't feel like I'm pushing you with this coffee date – er – meeting. I didn't mean to-"

"Clare," Eli quieted her. She was so sincere and so nervous, he couldn't help himself. He didn't want time – only Clare. Her hand was still trapped by his atop the table. Eli moved his fingers until they were entwined with hers, and she inhaled sharply.

"Don't worry about it."

She nodded mutely.

"You're worrying. I see it in your eyes, Edwards." _Your beautiful blue eyes._

"Not worrying," Clare finally said. "See? Smiling. Bright eyes. Not a care in the world."

Eli had to chuckle at that. "You're so convincing."

Her cheeks flushed red again from the soft way he was looking at her. She searched for another topic. "Oh, you never told me how detention was. Tell me you didn't try anything with Fitz again."

Fitz.

The name dragged up Eli's earlier thoughts. That look... something about it made him uneasy. At the same time, there was a certain anticipation thrilling him to his very core when he recalled the strange shimmer in Fitz's eye, the way his mouth had seemed to simultaneously tug up and down at the corners, the sigh that had shrugged his shoulders before he turned forward again. It was all so puzzling to Eli, and he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to understand.

"Under Ms. Oh's supervision? You offend me! I'm more refined than that."

Clare was not amused. "You're not going to do anything else, are you?"

"As I said before, don't worry about it."

"Eli, he could really hurt you!"

He wanted to quip something back about his bully, but Clare looked so concerned that he thought it best to cut her some slack for once.

"I won't let him. Honestly, you have so little faith in me. Now, come on," he stood and picked both of their bags up. "How about we get you home before Mama Edwards has a fit?"

Though she wanted to protest and be sure that nothing more would happen between Eli and Fitz, Clare could not fight the smile creeping into her eyes. She snatched her bag back from Eli as they exited The Dot.

"I'm not so pathetic that I can't handle my own school bag, thank you very much."

Her sass warmed Eli's heart. "Will the lady at least allow me to open the car door for her?"

"The lady wouldn't mind that particular bit of chivalry."

Driving home was more lonely than usual after dropping Clare off. Eli allowed his mind's eye to linger over the drive to her house and how they had both been caught sneaking glances at each other. Walking to her door hand in hand, everything had felt so fresh and exciting. She glowed under the porch light and Eli was struck by just how lovely she was. He particularly enjoyed recalling the way she had reached for the door knob only to be pulled back and drawn in close, how he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, her eyes fluttering shut as finally – _finally_ – their lips met, the softness of their kiss only dancing along the edge of something less than innocent. When he had released her and she had dazedly fumbled the door open, she whispered goodnight. Eli had smirked affectionately and replied. _And goodnight to you. Girlfriend._

Even with Clare's warmth lingering on his lips, Eli's sleep was disturbed by dreams of another touch far stronger than hers. He tossed and turned in the bed sheets thinking that they were Fitz's crushing arms and awoke shaken in the dark, wondering at the mouth that only moments before had seemed so real upon his neck.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

Everything was green and blue and black. The night blurred all around him in a smudgy disarray that caused Fitz's already spinning head to pound. Vomit seemed so ready at the back of his throat but he continued to fight it down. He needed to focus on his stumbling steps.

Every time he partied and drank he told himself that it wasn't worth it. He always felt like absolute shit. But then he would find himself at another party, Bianca would hand him another one of those cliché red plastic cup, and before he knew it he'd be glassy-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Tonight was different, however. He had sought that plastic cup out on his own, desperate to scramble the thoughts plaguing his mind. He did not want to see Eli with his arm around Clare again, hear that disgusting word one more time.

_Girlfriend._

It had been a rumor the day after detention – something about them being seen holding hands at The Dot. Fitz was not one to pay much attention to gossip usually, but Bianca had mentioned it at lunch and he could not ignore the subject. As the week progressed it was obvious that all the talk was true. _Girlfriend. _The bile climbed threateningly in his throat. He drew in a breath, icy night air rushing into his lungs. It stung, but it was a welcome exchange for his impending headache.

_What did you expect, Fitzy?_ Even his thoughts sounded drunk. _Did you think emo boy would forget the feud? Or did you not remember that he's straight like you're supposed to be? That he digs Clare instead of guys? Get over it. All of this – these stupid feelings – it's all just a fluke. Forget it happened. No one ever has to know. Just forget it. Go home, sleep this off, and move on._

Pavement gave way to grass beneath his worn sneakers as Fitz took the familiar shortcut home through the park. He shifted from watching his feet to watching the path ahead. Stumbling into a tree would be the rotting cherry on top of a truly dismal evening. Though his vision was wobbling unpleasantly before him, he could still see straight enough to know that the dark shape he saw nearby was a picnic table, and that someone was perched on top of it. _What time is it? If people are still out, I guess it's earlier than I thought._ But he could have sworn the clock had said midnight when he left the party. _It is the weekend, I suppose. _

As he got closer, Fitz slowed his pace. That hair... he knew how many times he had yanked it. And that jawline had met his fist several times. Swaying to a stop, Fitz gazed blearily upon Eli Goldsworthy's back. He tried to force his brain into attack mode; picking a fight was always the best way to ensure Eli knew he was alive, the closest thing to having him in his arms. His intoxicated head felt heavy and slow, however, and he could only think of how the hazy moonlight outlining Eli made him seem so beautiful. _Beautiful? Who am I?_

His thoughts wandered back to the party. He had felt up Bianca, which was nothing new. He had kissed her and gone upstairs with her. Bianca was very uncomplicated in that way. But none of that – not even the things that happened in an empty bedroom behind closed doors – compared with even the thought of kissing Eli. His imagination buzzed and shorted out at the image. Eli...

Without another thought, Fitz lumbered toward the object of his desire. He skirted around the side of the table and halted directly in front of Eli. The boy's eyes widened with surprise. He made to stand, but Fitz clamped his shoulder down with one hand, steadying himself against the table top with the other.

"Don't move."

"Are you drunk, Fitzy boy? Now you're just _letting_ me win, and where's the fun in that?" Eli laughed and Fitz's heart flipped madly inside his rib cage. His course of action was suddenly very clear. He wondered if Eli knew what he was thinking, perhaps deduced it from the way Fitz was eyeing him with a sort of gentle intensity. He leaned closer and Eli's lips parted to say something else, but Fitz beat him to it.

"Eli..." he slurred quietly, and then closed the gap between them.

The boy tasted like coffee and metal, smelled like car oil, night sky, and a hint of ginger. It was so different from the way Fitz's mind had fabricated it to be, but it was so much better. He hungered for him, but kissed the boy as softly as he could. He resisted the urge to bite Eli's lower lip, to pull him closer, to press against him. In that singular moment he wanted only to know the taste of Eli's tongue upon his own longing lips and to toy with the soft fringe of his hair.

The shock finally wore off and Eli shoved at Fitz.

"What are you-"

"Quiet," came the drunken reply before Fitz captured his mouth again.

Eli struggled against his firm hands. He thought of Clare, of his loathing for Fitz, of his lifetime spent desiring girls and only girls. This was not right. He could not believe that his speculations from that week's events were in fact true.

_The guy is drunk. That has to be the only reason._ Still, Eli could not ignore the bully's sincerity. Or the fact that this kiss was twisting his insides, drumming at his heart, heating his entire being. None of it made sense. As much as he wanted to oppose, to slip away, to end the mismatched intimacy, Eli could not help but be enamored and drawn in by the warmth. _No, it can't be... I don't..._ But Eli was kissing Fitz back now, and the other boy had noticed.

With a quiet tenderness, Fitz lowered Eli onto his back and situated himself over him, a reverse of their altercation in the hallway only days before. Only this time Eli was paralyzed by a twisted combination of fear and longing as Fitz nuzzled his vulnerable neck. It was almost more than either of the boys could bear, this strange meeting shrouded in a secret darkness. Clare flickered into Eli's mind again, but Fitz's teeth were moving up his throat and he could not hold the picture there.

Lips met lips once more. Eli's body went up in flames, and he gave in to the kiss.

**A lot happened in this chapter. I was going to just leave it at Fitz seeing Eli in the park and go from there, but then As Long As You're Mine came on my shuffle and I couldn't resist. So you have iTunes and Wicked to thank for the Elitzy goodness. Haha. PLEASE REVIEW and follow on tumblr. The link is on my profile.**

**I'm flattered by all the people who are avid readers of this fic. Thank you for the interest! :] Let me know what you thought of this installment!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: After way too much nasty writer's block, staring at blank documents for hours, and very little sleep, I finally have this to offer. For the record, I kind of dislike this chapter. I promise something better next time. Sorry for such a long wait! Thank you to those who were patient with me. I've got a lot on my plate right now so unfortunately I don't have a ton of time to be writing, but I'm doing the best that I can! I really appreciate the support. PLEASE REVIEW! **

It may have been raining slightly when Fitz was walking home. Perhaps the droplets dusted his short hair, reflecting like sparkles in the yellow glow of each street lamp he passed. His stumbling steps might have been kicking water up from the dark glittering pavement and soaking the back of his jeans with every spray. Maybe the frigid air was biting through his hoodie and stinging his face as he trudged along, his brain beginning to sober from the alcohol consumed only hours before. If he had looked up, he might have noticed the sky begin to lighten, signaling the start of a Saturday morning which – on any given week – would normally find him splayed out on his bed in a boyish fashion, dead asleep. However, this Saturday was unlike any other, and Fitz took no notice of the weather or the approaching dawn. His entire being was wrought with bittersweet bliss. Eli was in his eyes. His mouth. His chest. Eli was all over him. Fitz could smell the boy on his clothes, and it made him swoon. He thought of Eli's hands on his back, sliding under his shirt with a sureness that surprised Fitz. In response, he had flicked his tongue momentarily over the healing split in Eli's lip and felt the boy shudder beneath him. A grin twisted his tired face as he recalled every touch, every moment spent in Eli's arms. He wanted desperately to savor each recollection, for the end of it all left something to be desired:

When, with great hesitation, the two boys had separated their swollen lips from one another, Eli had barely glanced at Fitz. His green eyes were uncharacteristically dark and he kept them focused on the table top. After a few minutes of silence, save for the heavy breaths they both took to steady themselves, Eli hoisted himself off of the table. Fitz followed, wanting to reach out, speak to him, know his thoughts, but he could only watch the other boy take a few steps, then pause as though torn between the world they just indulged in and reality. Fitz's mind was still fuzzy, but the weight of their meeting was beginning to crash onto his shoulders. He feared the repercussions.

"Eli..." the hoarse whisper lacked eloquence as it ripped their prolonged silence in two.

No reply was given. The long-haired boy hunched his shoulders and stalked off into the fading night.

"Eli!"

But he did not look back, only quickened his pace. Not until he had crossed to the street where his hearse was waiting to whisk him home did Eli turn. He jerked the driver's side door open, cast his eyes back to where Fitz stood, and then clambered quickly in behind the wheel, taking off with spectacular speed.

Even an hour later when Fitz was finally home and laying awake in bed, the burn of Eli's last look still stung. Never before had Fitz seen eyes that striking filled with such unbridled hatred.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

The weekend drifted by in a slow haze, but Eli was sure to keep himself busy. His homework was more thoroughly done than ever before, he hung out with Adam and even Drew quite a bit, he got coffee with Clare, he worked on Morty with gritty rock blasting to keep his thoughts from wandering. Time to think was not an option. He kept reading comics at night until he was too exhausted to turn another page in order to expel the moments of quiet reverence before sleep set in. Even so, every time he looked at Clare, something awful tugged at his stomach. When he kissed her he wondered if she knew. Perhaps he tasted differently than before, smelled differently, moved differently with her than with... he could not even think the name. That one syllable was acid upon his tongue and he could not bear the way it laid him so open and raw at its very utterance. He did not want to contemplate why Friday night haunted his dreams with such a warm fondness, or why the most quiet of all voices in the back of his head moaned its longing to return to that secret darkness, and so he held Clare tighter, kissed her longer. He felt safe in her arms, but his insides twisted nauseatingly all the same.

_She never needs to know_, he thought desperately. _No one does. It doesn't matter – doesn't count. He was drunk, after all, right? It's nothing... nothing but intoxication._

Still the small voice murmured softly to him:

_He was drunk. But you weren't._

xx

Clare and Adam came into view as Eli approached his locker after his last class. They were laughing about something Adam had just said and Eli slowed his pace, taking time to admire the way Clare's curls bounced when she laughed, the certain way her eyes crinkled, and that stunning smile he so adored. When he finally reached the locker, Eli smirked and spun the dial.

"Is this the welcome wagon? A bit late for that, don't you think? School's been in for quite a while."

Adam, as always, rolled his eyes at Eli's sarcasm. "Clare and I are heading to The Dot to study. You in?"

"Sure. I could use a cup of coffee."

"What, not getting enough sleep from working _so hard_ on your English assignments?" Clare teased affectionately. He did not correct the reason she had given, but nodded and swung his locker shut.

"Something like that, Edwards."

The trio exited the school, and Eli took Clare's hand as they walked. She glanced up at him, her lips twisting into a soft little smile. It was all he could do to not sigh out loud. Everything with her felt so right.

An all too familiar shoulder slammed into Eli's, throwing off his balance for a moment and causing him to lose grip on Clare's hand.

"Oops," came the jeering voice from behind him. The voice that whispered in his ear at night. The voice that he wished to burn from his brain.

"What's your problem, Fitzy boy? Does veering out of the way take too much mental capacity for you? I know. Directions are hard, aren't they?" Eli sneered, ignoring Clare's attempts to pull him away.

Fitz's face faltered for a moment as though the words had actually stung, but his features quickly hardened into its usual angry resolve.

"Do you really want to do this in front of your little _girlfriend_, Eli?"

The boy's stomach lurched. He had spent all day making sure he did not see Fitz. Of course he would find him right at the end of the day when he was with Clare. Eli's hands itched to shove the bully into a locker, return pain to him for every slice of pleasure he had given. Instead, he re-twined his fingers with Clare's and glared pointedly at the other boy.

"Get lost, Fitz."

Just as the other night, Eli walked away and did not look back.

xx

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Clare knew the answer had to be yes, but she always asked so earnestly that Eli could not help but torment her a little.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll run off and cause all sorts of inhuman mischief while cutting class. What do you say, Edwards, are you up for a little hell-raising?"

Clare shook her head with a chuckle. "Goodnight, Eli."

She leaned down to kiss him and he pulled her in closer, taking in her supple taste and her cinnamon smell. She always seemed to smell like baking snickerdoodles.

Alli cleared her throat, obviously not entertained by the public display of affection.

"Come on, Clare, tear yourself away."

"Oh, you're one to talk," she teased, but straightened and shouldered her bag. With a final peck and a wave to Adam, Clare followed Alli out of The Dot. Eli looked wistfully after her.

"So, what, are you in love with her now?" Adam's cynicism drew Eli's attention back.

"Too soon to tell, my friend. But perhaps in time..."

"What about all that love at first sight crap? It worked for Romeo and Juliet."

"And they both ended up dead." Eli's tone had a harshness to it that surprised him.

It was not lost on Adam. "Okay, defensive. What's up with you? You've been acting all weird and paranoid for days."

Eli raised an eyebrow and considered the boy sitting across from him. Adam was tough, but he had a knack for understanding things that most people did not. He was an open-minded guy about nearly everything, which made Eli wonder how he would handle the news of recent events.

_I could tell him, couldn't I? Maybe I need an outside opinion. Adam wouldn't judge._

"Adam..."

_Would he?_

"Dude... what?"

He couldn't do it. The mere thought of forming the words made vomit climb in the back of his throat. It was best to pretend it had never happened, forget about that night. It did not exist. It was not real.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just tired, I guess." The excuse was weak and Adam was not fooled, but he did not press the subject. Eli appreciated how uncomplicated his friend was.

"Whatever, man. Ugh, my mom's here. I've got to go." Adam stood and bumped his fist against Eli's.

"Yeah, see you."

After three cups of coffee and two completed assignments for Ms. Dawes, the sky had begun to darken outside. Eli threw tip money down on his plate, gathered his things, and headed to the alley where he parked Morty, who was too big for the normal parking spots outside of The Dot. He felt uneasy in the dusk, something that had never bothered him before, but somehow it did not sit right with him. The evening was cold, a sure sign that winter was blowing in sooner than usual. Eli tugged his blazer closed as much as he could, but it did not do him much good. At least he could employ the heat once he got to Morty.

But when he rounded the corner, his unease was explained. Fitz stood beside the hearse, waiting.

Eli wasted no time. Dropping his bag, he advanced on the boy and drove his fist straight into his gut. Fitz doubled over, giving Eli the chance to knee him and knock him to the ground.

"Eli, what-"

He knew that Fitz wasn't fighting back, but it did not matter. He pinned his tormentor, pounding at his face, neck, chest, whatever he could reach. Fury blinded Eli. Each time his knuckles met flesh he got a sick thrill coupled with inexplicable sadness. But he continued on. Fitz's blood seeped over his fingers like a sticky, consuming shadow.

Eli sprang lightly to his feet.

"Get up," he commanded. Fitz struggled to get off the ground.

"Eli..."

But the boy gave him no time to finish. He charged. Fitz caught Eli's wrists firmly, spun him, and slammed him against the side of the hearse with great force. The smaller boy attempted to twist away, but he was held fast.

"Eli, stop. We need to talk."

He tried to shove at Fitz, but Fitz pushed him back against the car.

"I don't want to fight you."

"There's nothing to talk about!"

"Don't pretend it was nothing, Eli. You know it wasn't."

"I have a girlfriend!"

Fitz let him go and Eli edged away, eager to put distance between the two of them.

"I know," Fitz replied, sounding almost wounded. The vulnerability that he displayed confused and frustrated Eli. He wanted to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder and console him, but that thought made him clench his fists more tightly. He watched Fitz smudge blood away from his mouth.

"You have to face it sometime."

"Face what? I like Clare. A lot. That hasn't changed."

"I know, Eli. But some things _have_ changed."

Fitz had come closer and Eli did not back away this time. He had never noticed just how bright Fitz's eyes were until now. Once again, he thought of Clare and he was so horribly torn.

"I'm sorry that it's complicated," Fitz started. "But I-"

Eli shushed him. Though his heart was aching, Eli slowly and deliberately tilted his mouth up to meet Fitz's. The kiss was troubled and quiet, mirroring each boy's confounded soul. They were the last thing each of them needed and because of that, they needed each other. Fitz wound his arms around Eli's waist and pulled him closer. Eli did not object. Fingers wandered through hair, lips and tongues tangled gently, body pressed against hungry body.

Their lips parted for a moment, and Eli smirked helplessly.

"I hate you."

And Fitz chuckled before leaning back in. "I know, Eli." He captured the boy's snarky mouth for a more heated collision.

"I know."

**I hope this wasn't too awful. Follow and message me on tumblr (link is in my profile). Review! Thanks for reading as usual. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Your reviews and messages in my tumblr ask box are INCREDIBLE. Thank you all so much for reading and keeping interest even when I take so long to update. This is (once again) short, but it took me HOURS to write. This stupid writer's block is fighting me on every single chapter, unfortunately. ****And to those who asked last chapter, the end is not coming quite yet. I promise I will let you know when the last chapter is written. :] **

**For the record, I'm not very pleased with this chapter. It's... eh. I said that last time, though, and you all liked it, so maybe I'm wrong.  
**

**In any case, PLEASE review, and I hope you enjoy this, lovelies. **

Eli could not sleep. His bed was no friend to him now, for it allowed one too many dark and dizzy dreams. The walls seemed to heighten in his night blindness until he could not tell if ceiling or sky hung above him. Perhaps he would prefer it to be the sky, velvet black and dotted with pinholes of shimmering white. The frost of the wee hours settling into his skin as he hungrily drank in another mouth's warmth, tugged at a hoodie's zipper, slipped in closer to Fitz...

He shook his head violently for what seemed like the millionth time that night and the park disappeared. Always that same face plagued his thoughts: those freckles and that strong jaw. It was a wonderful jolt to Eli when he closed his eyes and relived the surprisingly gentle kisses that he had enjoyed several times now. Fitz's touch was careful and considerate, but never self-conscious. He was sure of his actions, but knew that Eli could shove him away at any moment. That fear was in the tension of his jaw, the slow deftness of his hands, the pleading in his slate eyes for just a moment of bliss. _It could only ever be a moment._ Eli ran a hand through his already unkempt hair and sighed deeply, knowing it was all too true. Their relationship – whatever it may be – ran at a different frequency than the rest of their very separate lives. He could not imagine that Fitz would ever tell Owen or Bianca about the park, the alley behind The Dot, the park again, the football field at midnight. In the same way, he knew that Adam could not be told because of Clare.

God, Clare. The thought of her made Eli lay back onto his pillow, flustered and guilt-ridden. He would give the world for her – his beautiful, angelic, honey-sweet Clare. She was what he had always wanted but could never find, not even with Julia. With Clare he felt complete. He felt secure. She brought him such a schoolboy happiness that he had never known before, and strangely enough he liked how that giddiness felt. More than liked – he _craved_ it. There was something about her that was a complete necessity for him, and if he did not have it, he feared he would burst into shards of useless matter. And Clare – strong as she was – seemed to glow a little brighter, speak up a little more loudly with Eli at her side. At first their codependency had pleased him very much, but now it only left him disheartened. The idea of hurting her was almost more than he could bear. Causing Clare pain was unthinkable, but the possibility of doing so was very, very real. This angered Eli and as much as he wished his rage could be heaped upon Fitz, he knew it could only be turned inward. He had allowed this infidelity to occur.

Eli pummeled his pillow, attempting to make it more comfortable for his befuddled head. He longed for even the lightest slumber to remove him from active thought for a few hours, throw out his consciousness for a little bit of peace.

_Shut up, SHUT UP._

He tore at his hair and thrashed his legs against the mattress in desperation. The contrasting memories, faces, and voices in his mind had to cease. He'd had enough for one night – another night of restless inner turmoil. Eli fought hard to shove it all out now and find a quiet space to drift away. Slowly, slowly, the voices lowered to a rumble soft enough to allow sleep, and Eli gratefully sank into the limbo between nothingness and solidity. His dream consisted of trying to tie two ropes together, only to have the knot unravel the moment he let go. It frustrated his dream-state self to no end.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

Degrassi was abuzz with talk of the Night in Vegas formal coming up. Apparently there would be actual gambling, roulette tables and all. Girls were flitting around in packs discussing scandalous dresses and Bhandari was talking about renting an Elvis costume. Fitz really could not care less about the whole event. He was happy to spend his lunches with Owen and the other guys talking about whatever idiotic movie they had just seen. Even Bianca's droning complaints about remedial gym were a welcome escape from all the formal chatter.

Night after night, Fitz wondered about Eli and Clare. Was he ever going to tell her? More importantly, was he ever going to leave her? At school, the answer seemed painfully obvious: no. Eli was always holding her hand, walking her to class, throwing an arm around her in the hall, going out for coffee with her after school. He barely spared Fitz a passing glance when Clare was around – or anyone else, for that matter. Fitz knew he could not expect anything more than that. It was naïve, unrealistic, _absurd_ to believe that Eli would raise suspicions by showing even a hint of non-hostile behavior toward him. They were forced to continue their nemesis charade, but Fitz did not know how long he could play their game before he broke down completely.

As unexpected and – for lack of a better word – inconvenient this onslaught of feelings for the boy he bullied were, the fact of the matter remained that Fitz was dangerously infatuated with Eli. He consumed his thoughts, his very soul. He changed his routes to and from classes so that he would pass Eli more because although it was utter torment to watch him flirt with Clare, it was worse to not see him at all.

"Can I help you?" The voice that interrupted Fitz's thoughts was less than amused, and he realized that, lost in his thoughts, he had thrown his unintentional gaze upon a random classmate.

"What's your problem?" The voice came again.

He refocused his eyes and was met with the annoyance of Holly J Sinclair. Of all the people in math, it had to be her. He sneered half-heartedly.

"Sorry, didn't think that my looking at you would get you so excited."

Bianca chuckled snarkily behind him. As expected, Holly J was unruffled.

"Next time you want to stare like a prehistoric mongrel, try not to drool so much."

"You wish, Ginger Snap. You're not exactly my type."

The red-head rolled her eyes and turned back to Fiona, who was – as always – texting without any awareness of what was happening in the world around her.

"When are the over-privileged going to figure out that they're just cows and no one is interested?" Bianca scooted her desk closer to Fitz's. "Hey, some losers invited me to the Ravine after school. Want to come?"

"We don't go to the Ravine, Bee."

"I know, because it's lame. But it could be fun to watch all those idiot hicks do... whatever the hell is is they do. You in?"

Fitz had glanced toward the door as Bianca talked, just in time to see Eli stroll by unaccompanied. He was most likely headed back to his class after being excused to the washroom. It was the first Fitz had seen him at school without Clare in quite a while. The mere idea of it threw Fitz's thoughts completely off kilter.

"Uh," he finally muttered to Bee. "No, I've got...uh...stuff to do after school."

"You're leaving me with Owen, again? Whatever, man." She huffed out her cheeks and leaned back in her chair to make it clear that she was done with him. Fitz smirked to himself. She'd be right back by his side the next day. Bee was good at making drama for herself, but she knew who her friends were.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

A note was crushed in Eli's left hand.

_Behind the school. 4.30._

He hadn't seen the handwriting much, but there was no doubt about who it was from. Sure enough, when he rounded the corner he found that familiar figure waiting for him. There was thunder in Eli's heart and pitter-pattering rain in his stomach. Before he even touched Fitz, he felt electric. Currents seemed to run under his skin, chasing each other, sparking, glowing. He could have sworn he was giving off light the way his nerves were trembling.

Fitz's face broke into an easy smile at the sight of him. He reached for Eli and the boy eagerly obliged, forgetting his conflicted interests for a moment to indulge in Fitz's woodsy scent and the salt of his lips. The kiss was therapy as usual after a day of playing pretend.

"A locker note?" Eli chided as he broke away. "What are we, in grade seven?"

"I was all out of carrier pigeons." Fitz reclaimed Eli's snarky mouth, folding the smaller boy into his arms. He slipped his autumn-chilled hands into the boy's military jacket to press their bodies closer. Eli let the smallest whisper of a sigh hum in his throat. He adored being held this way, kissed this way, feeling Fitz's heart beat next to his own. Cautiously, he snaked a hand up to cradle the back of the boy's head, his palm fitting the curve at the nape of his neck. Fitz smiled at this gesture and caught Eli in a tender trap between his body and the school wall.

"Fitz..." Eli stuttered between delving kisses. "Fitz, wait..."

The taller boy pulled back, leaving his hands pressed against the wall on either side of Eli and tilting his head in interest.

"I've been thinking a lot about this... and Clare... it just isn't fair to her..."

"Then get rid of her."

Eli's eyes flashed as they met Fitz's. "You know I can't do that."

Fitz pushed away from the wall and paced a bit, frustrated. "Well, why not, Eli?"

"She's my _girlf-_"

"Damn it, I _know_ she's your girlfriend. You've made that clear a thousand times. But you always come meet me, don't you? You're here."

Eli kicked his heel up against the wall and huffed out a heavy breath. "Yes, I'm here. I still like Clare."

"But you like me, too," Fitz stopped his short strides in front of him. He looked over Eli and the boy's brooding tugged at his heart strings. He softened his tone as he reached out to push dark bangs out of Eli's gem-like eyes. "You do like me, don't you?"

Fitz's vulnerability melted the confused anger that had been building up in Eli's throat. He realized then that as much as he did not want to hurt Clare, he disliked the thought of Fitz's feelings being a causality either.

"I... " He had never said it, not even to himself, but the truth was too blatant to ignore. "I...do. I like you. But we're not Riley and Zane here. I mean... we're... we can't... God damn it, Fitz! What do you want me to do?"

The boys stared at each other for a moment, taking flustered breaths, exchanging galaxies in their irises. This was it. This was all they had – little moments that added up to... what? A relationship? An affair? It was barely even that. The best they could do was paste minutes onto minutes and hope that the time patched hastily together would be enough. It was already beginning to wear at each of their hearts. They were splintered from the start of it all. The question had been posed, but they both knew that there was nothing to be done. Even so, a shine of determination brightened Fitz's eye, and Eli could not help but feel it, too.

Eli and Fitz suddenly crushed together, overcome by the weighty secret that they struggled under. Fitz could not get enough of Eli's soft skin on his lips, and Eli clutched at Fitz's silky bristled hair as the older boy kissed down his neck. He felt like shouting, or perhaps like crying. Something was bottled up inside of him and Eli wanted so badly for it to go away. He wanted to stay here in this world, in this time, and let Fitz kiss him until everything else was just meaningless brushstrokes on a dull canvas – a blur of verb and emptiness. All that he was consisted of Fitz's breath, impassioned touch, and heartbeats like footfalls on concrete.

"Did you hear that?" Fitz breathed urgently in his ear.

They listened, suddenly paralyzed in each other's arms. The heartbeats _were _footfalls. Someone was on the other side of the corner, headed their way.

"Eli?"Clare, not yet in view, called his name.

Her voice was an icicle through his ribcage. Eli's vision seemed suddenly murky, brown, unpleasantly shaky. He locked eyes with Fitz, feeling dizzy and sick.

His gasp broke the panicked silence.

.

.

**Satisfactory? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Feedback fuels my next chapter. Follow on Tumblr (link on my profile). Thank you all for being such loyal and wonderful readers. I'm flattered that you have taken such an interest and that so many people have Be My Bruise on their story alert. Stay tuned!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hey, lovelies! I've been sick the past few days and it was awfully hard for my delirious mind to be constructively creative. I'm so sorry I left you on a cliffy for so long! It's 4am here and I've only just finished this chapter. I've been working on it... or trying and getting distracted a lot... for about five hours now. I'm too exhausted to proof it for grammatical and spelling errors right now so if you find any, please forgive me.**

**PLEASE REVIEW. Reviews keep me motivated. I'm sorry if this chapter seems choppy... it fits together really well in my head, but my thought processes are weird. All I can really say for certain is that this chapter is rather heartbreaking to me. Enjoy.  
**

Fitz tried to gauge how close Clare was by the sound of her footsteps. It did not work, but it calmed his mind so that he could focus on Eli. The boy's eyes were wild with emerald-studded panic, his breathing rapid and heavy. He was paler than usual as though some internal war was draining the blood from his veins. It was frightening to watch.

"Maybe this is a good thing," Fitz tried quietly. "You could just tell her now and get it done with."

"I'm not telling her." Eli was starting to shake. In an attempt to console him, Fitz laid a hand upon his stark white cheek.

"E," he cooed softly, urgently. "E, please... calm down..."

Clare called out again, closer this time, and Eli flinched away from Fitz's touch.

"She can't know!" He gasped angrily.

The very oxygen between them seemed to shift at this. The pain from Eli's outburst was evident in the way Fitz's eyes dimmed and the corners of his mouth sagged. He left his hand extended for a moment, fingers slowly curling in as the warmth of Eli's face left them. With those three words, Eli had – perhaps unwittingly – made a choice. Heat stung Fitz's eyes and he was surprised at himself. _You don't cry, idiot._ He gritted his teeth, tightened his jaw, hardened his resolve to hide the disappointed pain brewing inside. Clare was close, he knew. His eyes flashed angrily at the thought of her swooping in and dragging Eli away. Eli would pretend that nothing was happening. He'd go on with the double life that Fitz was so exhausted from.

"What are you _doing?_" Eli hissed at Fitz, who had thrown himself on the ground with such a force that his head smacked sickly against the pavement.

"Kick me."

_"What?"_

"You need an alibi, don't you? So, I called you out. You were too proud to not show. We fought. You won."

It was not a perfect lie, but it would do. Clare would never suspect the truth. But Eli was not moving. He just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at Fitz. The taller boy got to his feet and gave Eli a shove.

"Hit me back."

"I don't want to fight you..."

"_Hit me!_ You don't want her to know anything, right? So hit me."

Eli tried to move away, shaken and confused by the sudden rage ripping at every one of Fitz's syllables. His eyes were narrowed as he shoved Eli against the wall again. And again. And again.

"Fitz, stop!"

He wanted to stop but could not bring himself to. Fitz knew all too well that he and Eli were breaking the rules by being together, secretly or otherwise. However, Eli's constant need to hide from and stay with Clare was nearly more than he could take. He would not tell her. He was never going to, and that was becoming painfully obvious to Fitz. He wanted the fight and the pain to be external again and not this inner well of despair that brought idiotic, childish tears to his eyes and an uncomfortable lump in his throat. His skin itched and muscles jumped to fight the hurt away.

"Come on, Eli, don't you _want_ to?" Fitz sneered cruelly. "Wouldn't it just feel right to punch the guy that makes you cheat on your perfect little St. Clare in the mouth? Doesn't that sound appealing to you?"

"Where the hell is this _coming _from? Get off of me."

Eli pushed Fitz back forcefully and the boy smirked, bitterly satisfied that his provocation was taking hold.

"There you go. Be mad at me. Fight me because that's all the contact you can publicly have with me. Because I'm the flaw in your life that you have to hide away. Because you _hate_ me. Isn't that what you said yourself? You _hate _me."

Eli's fist exploded into Fitz's stomach, and he doubled over with a croaking gasp that morphed into a twisted laugh. The smaller boy did not stop at that. He plowed his knee into Fitz's lowered chest, splaying him out across the concrete. He advanced, about to lay fists to face, when a voice split up the budding brawl.

"Eli!" Clare had finally turned the corner and stood with her arms crossed disapprovingly, surveying the scene laid before her with pink lips agape.

"Well done, E," Fitz whispered in a voice broken and charred by emotions set ablaze. The tone was not lost on Eli, who turned a troubled eye upon the boy on the ground. "She'll never know."

"Eli, you said there weren't going to be anymore fights," Clare huffed, marching over and dragging her boyfriend away. She was tough, Fitz had to give her that. And kind. He looked up to find her lingering nervously near his huddled figure, wringing her hands with anxious concern.

"A-are you okay?"

Fitz coughed a surprised laugh. If only the girl knew what had taken place only moments before. If only she had not called out and instead walked around the corner to find her Eli wrapped in another man's arms, his face the picture of sweet, taboo pleasure. Then she would not be quite so concerned about Fitz's welfare.

"Just go, Clare. You wouldn't want to keep your mommy waiting." It was weak, but it did the trick. Clare furrowed her brow and walked away hesitantly, reaching for Eli's arm as she went.

Closing his eyes as he lay there, not willing to move, Fitz did not see Eli's last look; he missed the befuddled sadness of the emerald gaze that fell over him. When Fitz finally did open his eyes again and stagger to his numbing feet, the sky was fading into a murky dusk and Eli was long gone.

.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

.

Fitz was nowhere to be found.

Usually Eli saw him on his way to classes here and there, at lunch in the caf, in the parking lot before school, even at The Dot in the afternoon. Clare and Adam watched him scan for Fitz wherever they went. With a light, frustrated sigh, Clare always encouraged him to stop looking. If Fitz wasn't bothering Eli anymore, then the cycle of violence was over and everyone could go back to their normal lives. Adam said nothing, but watched Eli over the rim of his coffee mug, a curious eyebrow raised. He tried to casually shy away from his friend's searching eyes.

Every day Eli checked his locker thoroughly, half of him hoping to find a note from Fitz and the other half relieved when there wasn't one. There was never anything. No _'Football field at nightfall'_ or _'That park. Midnight. Saturday.'_ He still did not understand Fitz's erratic behavior behind the school – sudden rage, a strange hunger for violence. He had been the menacing bully all over again, but with heavy eyes. It was a slower, more deliberate anger as though he were dragging it reluctantly from the depths of his heart, feigning darkness... and for what? So that Clare could go on blissfully unaware? Fitz did not have any stock in Clare's peace of mind. He fought to give Eli an alibi, but he did not truly fight. Instead, he had begged Eli to kick him, hit him, throw him to the ground, and the rage confused Eli to the point of physical recklessness. He hadn't wanted to harm Fitz in any way, but his half-deranged taunting disturbed Eli and he felt he _had_ to quiet him somehow.

_'Fight me because that's all the contact you can publicly have with me.'_

Fitz's words pounded at his brain. Had that been the nature of their quarrel all along – to experience the thrill of a fantasy's touch carefully under the eye of stark reality?

_'Because I'm the flaw in your life that you have to hide away.'_

Eli felt sick hearing that resonate in his mind, knowing it was ultimately true. Hiding was all they could do, wasn't it? He had thought they both understood that. However a nagging thought hissed in Eli's ear: _he's only sneaking around because you want him to._

That could not be true. Fitz had a certain reputation and certain friends. He hung out with Owen, the most homophobic person at Degrassi. He would keep it quiet whether Eli wanted to or not. The nagging thought quickly switched its angle, not willing to let Eli's already heavy conscience go so freely: _he doesn't like you playing with him._

Eli did not want to hear that. He wanted to live in a state of naivety where he was not cheating, however idiotic that mindset may be. Admitting infidelity against Clare was sickening, and Eli tried to console himself with the weak excuse that he and Fitz were not in a relationship. _Then what is it?_ The voice in his head was persistent and mocking, and he forced himself to ignore it.

_'You hate me.'_

Whenever his own head was not griping at him, Fitz's words came floating back. The air tightened around Eli. His mouth was dry. His stomach flipped and swooned at those syllables. Hate me. _Hate me._ He was utterly nauseated at the gritty pain masked behind those words. Hate could not live side by side with the feelings Eli's heart housed for Fitz. It was not possible and therefore did not exist. But his feelings for Fitz and his feelings for Clare could not cohabitate either, and so they warred viciously with each other in an endless losing battle. Their swords tore Eli apart. A childish side of him wanted it all to just disappear but he knew that a winner would have to eventually be declared. If only someone else could decide.

.

-xx-

.

"What are you up to tonight, Edwards?"

Clare did not look up from her book. "Homework with a break for homework, and if I get really bored, a little more homework. The same thing _you_ should be doing, Eli. We have two essays due tomorrow in English alone."

"Please, I've already finished them."

She paused at this and settled her gaze on the boy sitting backwards on the desk in front of her. "You've finished both twenty-five-hundred word papers on the life and times of _Romeo and Juliet _and your personal topic?"

Eli laid a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Are you doubting my writing abilities, Plath?"

"Don't call me that," Clare smirked affectionately before gluing her eyes to her book once more. "Why are you asking about tonight?"

"I was thinking we could go out."

"You mean for coffee at The Dot?"

The dark-haired boy slid smoothly into his seat as Ms. Dawes came by. He waited for her to pass before closing Clare's book. His girlfriend snapped her blue eyes back up to meet his, narrowing them in flattered frustration.

"Eli..."

"I was thinking something more along the lines of dinner."

Clare's face relaxed into a delighted smile at this. "Dinner? As in..."

"As in you wear a pretty dress and I pay."

"Oh, you do know the way to a girl's heart," Clare fluttered her eyelashes dramatically, biting back a giggle.

"Is that you agreeing?"

"Pick me up at seven?"

"Morty will be all too pleased." Eli leaned over and kissed Clare softly without any care for where they were or what they were supposed to be doing. He caught her bottom lip in his gentle teeth, feeling its rosy plumpness with the tip of his tongue. Her vanilla-cinnamon scent scrambled his mind pleasantly.

"That's cute and all," Adam's voice broke into their intimate moment. "But could you maybe... not?"

Clare shied away, a beautiful scarlet flush dusting across her cheekbones. Eli smirked at his friend. "Adam, my good man, we need to find you a girl."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Thanks... that's really not going to stop you two from being sickening, though. Save it for after class, won't you?"

Ms. Dawes cleared her throat from the front of the room and the three friends hastily turned back to their books.

.

-xx-

.

Driving at night with Clare in Morty's passenger seat was therapy for Eli's heavy heart. She made him feel less conflicted, and her smile spread electrifying warmth throughout his body. All through dinner he had felt whole, basking in the intelligent wit of their banter and the stunning way Clare could hold her own against him in a verbal sparring match. She wore a green dress that set off her hair beautifully, which in turn caused her summer sky eyes to glisten from a rim of brown lashes. Staring awestruck at her over the candlelight, Eli had to remind himself to breathe properly. He _adored_ this girl. She was so surprising, strong, sure of herself. It was a refreshing change from the abundance of high school girls who could not be real people around members of the opposite sex.

Taking her home was a shame, but he had already done three large, random loops to elongate their time together. He just did not want to let her go. He did not want to look over and not have her there, reflecting the streetlamps off of her ethereal skin. She was the melody to smooth his worried brow, to sigh away the nervous fever that threatened to overtake him. It seemed so useless to require more than just her beside him.

"You really should watch the road more when you're driving," Clare chided, a smug smile twisted on her lips. They stood together by the driver's door of Morty, who was parked outside of the Edwards' home. Eli held Clare gingerly against his side to keep her warm.

"I always get you home in one piece, Edwards. And if I didn't... well, it _is_ a hearse."

She punched his arm playfully. "That's awful, Eli!"

The porch light blared on pointedly.

"You should probably get inside." Eli smirked down at her for a moment, once again admiring her lovely visage. Slightly impatient, Clare leaned up to kiss him. Her initiative excited him and he pulled her in closer, kissed her deeper, held her more tightly. He wished to melt into her, to become a single entity shrouded in the dark and the quiet for all time. Nothing else needed to exist. Time was of no concern. Responsibilities did not matter. All thoughts that did not include the two of them alone together were irrelevant, and he willed them to fade away into the oblivion of forgotten memories that hedged the universe in. They would exist purely to be part of one another and to kiss until Clare was wild in his arms and their heart beats set the tone for planetary orbits. But she was tilting her head back now, rocking back onto her heels, pulling away to look at him. Her eyes shone brighter than any clump of stars could every hope to.

"What was that for?" She tried in vain to hide her struggle for even breaths.

"Thank you for coming out with me tonight, Clare," Eli smiled at her. "Let me walk you to your door."

Hand in hand, the lovers bid each other goodnight on the porch.

Only when he was back in Morty did Eli allow another face into his mind's eye to ravage and rip at his heart strings.

.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

.

In a house shaking with teens and hard music filled with hollow lyrics, Fitz knocked back yet another shot of whiskey. The more he did, the more smoothly the alcohol slid down his throat. There was no burn in the liquid anymore – merely warmth and a seething grit that slowly took hold of his stomach. No one talked to him. The bleak sharpness in his eyes drove them to giving him a wide berth. He did not care. He did not even notice. Just one shot after the other. Throw, throw, throw.

"You look like shit, man."

"Thanks, Bee." He was slurring just as bad as she was.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you? You've sat here all night with a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass." Bianca tripped closer to him and let her hands fall drunkenly on his shoulders. "You're not trying to off yourself, are you?"

"What the hell, Bee? I'm fine. Where's that guy you were talking to?"

She rolled her eyes and plopped down across Fitz's lap. "He was an ass." Her fingers wandered to the collar of his tee-shirt and tugged. "Come with me."

Fitz knew this routine all too well, but had not fallen into it for a while. Not since...

The green eyes that blazed through his vision were gone with a furious blink.

With all the grace of a wounded bear, Fitz hoisted himself out of the chair when Bianca slid off his lap, and he let her hold his hand as she danced and staggered her way through the hoards of drunken teenagers. She dragged her toes up each step of the stairs, leading Fitz along behind her until they reached an empty bedroom.

"Fitzy, am I attractive?"

Emerald eyes floated in his mind again, accompanied by a sweep of dark hair and a teasing, twisting smirk. Fitz closed his eyes tight, but the face stayed captured behind his irises.

"Yes," he choked. "You're attractive."

Bianca gave a pleased, boozed-up smile and pulled Fitz into the darkness. The door swung shut behind them.

**Was it worth the wait? I don't really know... but it's an update and I hope you all found is at least satisfactory. There is more to come, so stay tuned. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. And follow on tumblr - the link is in my profile.**

**Thank you all so much for your kind words and loyal readership. I am truly flattered.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note (PLEASE READ)**

**Oh my goodness. I thought this day would never come. FINALLY I have finished chapter 8 and am presenting it to you now. I really, really, really hope it was worth the wait and I cannot apologize enough for how long it's been. Nearly two months... gah, I'm so sorry. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE!  
**

**Important things that you should know:**

**1. I am halfway through my gap year, so right now I am applying and auditioning for colleges. I have essays to write, monologues to memorize, songs to arrange, and on and on and on. It's a very stressful time as I am STILL trying to get a job on top of all this collegiate nonsense. This means that I will be very busy and may not have a lot of time to write. I will do my utmost to update much sooner than this in the future, but please do note that I have important things to attend to at this point in my life.**

**2. I have been playing around writing one-shots to break my writer's block. I am considering posting them soon. If I do, please do not take that as me neglecting Be My Bruise. I just need a little variety here and there.**

**3. I am currently in the process of re-editing an old Beatles fic of mine that I never finished and plan to start posting it chapter by chapter. This is also not a neglect of Be My Bruise, it's just something I've been wanting to do for a while.**

**So without further ado, here is Chapter 8 of Be My Bruise, brought to you by two months of lyrical, thoughtful writing and a burst of creativity due to tumblr being down.  
**

Broken white light streamed in between the slats of the blinds and striped the room with spindly rectangles. They crawled across the carpet, slithered up the side of the bed, and crept across the peaceful face and bare chest of a deeply-slumbering boy. At first glance the late morning sun peeking in thought him dead from the way his pallid skin contrasted with the purple half-moon shapes under his eyes, giving him a morbid, sunken look. However closer examination found him very much alive – though looking entirely worse for wear – and the sun poked at his eyelids hoping to sting him awake.

Fitz flung an arm across his eyes with a groan. His head felt full of chipping marbles, and the incoming light rattled them rudely. He wondered silently if it was Saturday or Sunday... or perhaps a very unwelcome Tuesday. It was not clear quite when he fell asleep, nor what had taken place before that. He also wondered at the strange feel of the bed beneath him. It seemed a tad too short; his feet hung off the end. This was not a bed he had ever awoken in before. An extra-soft pillow cradled his ailing skull kindly, rendering any disconcerted wonderings about his whereabouts insignificant for the time being. Nothing about him wanted to move; the mere thought made his entire body creak and scream in protest. The night previous had not been kind to him. He remembered a hot sting in his throat that now lay gritty like sandpaper – whiskey had left its mark. He remembered the music, too - an uncomfortable pulse against his eardrums that numbed out a certain voice in his head that made his heart thrum giddily. Eventually all of it – the voice, the jade eyes that burned through his mind, the whisper of gentle hands on skin – melted away and was left to fester on the floor downstairs. _Downstairs where?_ His thoughts refused to click together. There had been a yearning in the pit of his stomach, a sadness that he attempted to drown with liquor. And then a voice – a new one – invaded his memories from the night before. It was louder than the velvety echoes that brought him so much pleasure and so much pain at once. This new voice had to have been at the party itself. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, aggravating the headache but struggling desperately to remember. There was the dark and the noise and the liquor, that was clear. Then this voice... and weight on his lap. The conversation rushed back to him, the staircase, the slurred giggles, the heat of flesh on flesh. Fitz came back to the present and his eyes snapped open. The stark morning poured into his brain with a sharpness that he ignored as his attention turned to the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Bianca slipped quietly through the half-open doorway, her timid movement the picture of care; she had not yet noticed that Fitz was awake and was working against startling him. A plate laden with waffles, eggs, and greasy bacon balanced expertly on her hand, a mug clutched in the other. The girl fumbled for the light switch, then thought better of it and continued on with only the slanted glow through the blinds to guide her. She set the dishes down on the bedside table, glancing sideways at the assumed sleeping boy for the first time. Upon finding his eyes open, however, she took an alarmed step back. Fitz sat up at this, his mind dizzily dancing from the abrupt movement.

"Sorry, Bee. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Bianca shook her head dismissively. "I just... I didn't know you were awake."

She bit her lip nervously as though she feared her presence was the fault of his sleeping disturbed. Fitz thought to reassure her, but was distracted and took in her appearance curiously. Her hair was still damp from that morning's shower, and curled with messy softness over one shoulder. The skin-tight jeans she so often donned at school and at parties were missing, and in their place billowed well-worn periwinkle pajama pants. A black cami scooped toward her breast – a sight commonly seen – but the thick sweater wrapped around her torso prevented any indecency. All of this combined showcased a Bianca that Fitz was unfamiliar with, but his eye was further drawn to the girl's face. No makeup masked her skin or shadowed her eye, no artificial color stained lip or cheek. This was a glimpse that very few had been allowed to catch, Fitz knew, and he wished in that moment that it could be another man – not himself – sitting in bed, witnessing the pieces of sunlight dashing against her visage as she crept closer to the window, the day breaking merrily across her cheekbones. If a man whose heart was not already folded and tangled for someone else could take Fitz's place, he was sure that man would tumble helplessly at Bianca's feet. Fitz suspected that the girl craved no less than this.

Presently, Bianca shifted from foot to foot self-consciously, flustered under the weight of Fitz's searching gaze.

"I brought up some breakfast for you." She indicated the food and steaming mug. "Hangover's delight."

"Oh uh... thanks." Fitz awkwardly pulled the plate into his lap and, after a moment of hesitation, took a bite. Nausea did not rush his stomach. He chanced another forkful of eggs.

"This is really good, Bee."

"Don't sound so surprised; I do know my way around a kitchen," her lip curled into a half-smile. "I am a student of the Food Network, after all. Culinary genius in the making."  
Fitz laughed outright at this, swigging back some coffee. Bitterness washed over his tongue and made him shiver, but it was exactly what his splitting head ached for so he allowed himself a larger gulp before turning back to the food. In a matter of minutes he had polished off his entire breakfast and therefore had nothing left to distract him from the fact that Bianca still lingered uncomfortably by the foot of the bed, looking anywhere but at him. The night before had not been their first time together, but Fitz had usually managed to stagger away when the party ended. Of course it would be at Bianca's house that he drank too much to stay awake after sex.

"So..."

The word hung between them in all of its blatant awkwardness. He immediately regretted breaking the silence in such a way.

"My mom will be home from New York in a few hours," Bianca muttered almost as an aside.

"Right... I'm uh... sorry that I fell asleep here."

"At least it wasn't during."

"Ah... yeah..."

For the first time that morning, Bianca met Fitz's eye. She squinted slightly as though she was trying to read information off of the boy's face. He wondered what she looked for and why her shoulders fell as if defeated by what she did or did not find.

"Fitz," the girl started tentatively, struggling to keep eye contact. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

He noticed a strange tilt in her voice – almost pleading. It confused him. "I remember going upstairs with you and... what we did up here. Vaguely. Why?" Panic invaded Fitz's mind. With that much alcohol in him and the subject that had been on his mind, he suddenly worried about what his drunken mouth may have spilled out. "Was there... I mean, did... did something happen?"

"No." Bianca dropped her gaze, but not before Fitz caught the flash of pain in her eyes. She took the dirty dishes from him. "I've got to clean up the kitchen. Your clothes are on the chair." The girl bustled out the door and all of a sudden Fitz found himself alone in the room again. He allowed her footsteps to fade out of his ears before attempting to process what had just taken place. Bee had answered him too quickly, fled too willingly. He could not imagine she was _that_ embarrassed by their escapades at her party, but then what was it? Befuddled, he hoisted himself out of bed and crossed to the chair she had indicated. There sat all of his clothes from the party, folded and stacked neatly; Fitz had never figured Bianca for the domestic type.

After dressing, he found the girl downstairs washing dishes at the kitchen sink. Her eyebrows were knit together with determination that he thought may have to do with him coming into the room - she didn't want to notice him. His mind crackled painfully with every step and he was almost too afraid to pry at Bianca's strange mood; his hangover was still going strong. As he watched her scrub vigorously at a frying pan, however, he decided he might as well dive in and get it over with.

"Bee, why are you being so weird?"

"Me?" she scoffed, turning sharply. Fitz flinched, thinking for a wild moment that she might send the pan flying in his direction. "What about you? Seriously, Fitz, you've been weird for weeks. Owen tells me it's nothing and I've been trying to shrug it off, but you're acting like you're on your... your comma or something."

Fitz stared at her, bewildered. "My _what?_"

"Your comma... you know, your man period?"

"My _man period?_ God, Bee, how old are you?"

She whipped the dish rag at him viciously. "You know what I mean. You've been a moody little bitch. One day you seem all giddy and preoccupied like a little kid at a carnival, and the next you're growling at everyone. Then last night... it seemed like you had hit some sort of wall. You hadn't been to any parties in a while – we all thought you were going back to normal."

"Normal?" Fitz emitted a small snort of laughter. _Normal. What does that mean anymore?_ He considered the girl standing before him: his friend, someone he had slept with before, someone he had used drunkenly the night before to ward off the emerald irises still smoldering in his mind's eye. What could she be thinking when she asked about his recent oddness? She can't have ever guessed it right, he was sure. The heaviness of his heart tugged at him relentlessly day after day. For whatever reason, in that moment he was desperate to tell Bianca what was going on. He needed someone to take part of the burden for fear that it would break him if he held on alone any longer.

"Have you ever been in love, Bee?"

It was her turn to stare in confusion. He had caught her off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

The more she stared at him with those ever-widening coffee eyes, the higher terror climbed up through his rib cage, icing over his lungs. He wasn't thinking clearly. How could he tell her? She stood there gazing at him, unmoving, barely even blinking. _Shit. Take it back. Don't ask her that question. _Something seemed to click in her face and her eyes drifted away as the curtain of comprehension jerked open in front of her. There was something stirring in her mind, freshly realized. _Shit shit shit..._

"Oh my god," Bianca whispered.

"Bee, don't flip out..."

"It's that little Edwards girl, isn't it?"

Fitz froze. _What?_

"Um, well..."

But Bianca had started to pace tightly up and down, spewing each thought as they came together and snapped into place in her mind. "That's why you're being weird all the time and why you haven't told us about it. You thought Owen and I would give you shit because she's all prude and Jesus-y – which we will, by the way. And that explains you hating that goth prick so much."

At the insult to Eli, Fitz bristled inwardly. Bianca looked oddly pissed off at her revelation, but he did not have time to ponder this for she had halted her pacing and was watching him expectantly. He was unsure of how to proceed. His courageous idea of telling her the truth had dripped entirely away, leaving only an anxious need to say something – anything to keep her from questioning further.

"I, uh..."

Bianca crossed her arms impatiently, waiting for his response. Fitz suppressed a flustered sigh and nodded meekly.

"Fine, you're right. I'm in love with Clare Edwards."

.

.

-x-x-x-x-x-

.

.

_ Tap tap-tap tap tap-tap tap tap-tap._

Eli hunched his shoulders against the cold breeze blustering down the hall with every door opening.

_Tap tap-tap tap tap-tap tap._

His hands swiftly turned the comic book's pages as he read, squinting a bit to concentrate.

_Tap tap-tap tap tap-_

"Adam!" Eli finally snapped to his friend, who stilled the tapping of his pen and looked up. "Must you?"

"Sorry, man. Don't get all excited."

"Me? You have been tense all morning. What is wrong with you?"

Adam tilted his head closer to Eli and spoke in a hushed tone. "Bianca. She's been staring every time she has seen me today."

"So?"

"Well... we have that stupid remedial gym class together and we're partners for ballroom dancing. Maybe she-"

Eli lowered his comic book, a surprised smirk twisting his mouth agape. "You have a crush on her."

"I don't know... she's attractive, don't you think?"

"Sure... if you like the club district type."

Adam shot Eli a look. "I like her. She's cool to hang out with, even if she is friends with Fitz the Menace."

At the mention of Fitz's name, Eli's stomach churned. His sharpied finger nails dug into his palms as he bit back the bile that bubbled on his tongue. Adam noticed the change in his friend's manner.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just hungry. Clare is taking forever to get here." Wanting to divert his attention, Eli nodded in Bianca's direction. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Adam raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like her."

"You could do worse, my man." Eli shooed him off, grinning half-heartedly at the silly puppy-dog look his friend sported. But Fitz's name still buzzed in his ears and it was all he could do to keep from bursting out of his skin.

It had been over a week since the confrontation behind the school. Eli ached to know what Fitz had been doing in the passing days. Had he run off to a new place, devoid of tangled emotional webs and forbidden temptations? The very thought of it twisted the shards of Eli's heart uncomfortably. Fitz had to have known that he could not tell Clare that way. He wasn't prepared for it. Clare deserved a fair explanation that Eli fully intended to give her. Eventually. Maybe. Could he? Clare was an incredible girl – beautiful, witty, intelligent, enchanting in every way. She was everything Eli needed.

_Is she?_ A familiar voice murmured behind Eli's eyes. Even as a conscience-driven echo, the light gravel in Fitz's tone vibrated through Eli like a kitten's purr. His ears thirsted for it, wanting to drink in the sound until he was full, yet knowing he could never get enough.

_Is she what?_ He thought back to his Fitz-flavored conscience. It was frustrating when half of his mind didn't let the rest of him know what it was thinking.

_Is she everything you need? What about the darkest parts of you – the parts that the warmth and light don't touch? What about the chinks in your armor that let in frigid air and seep blackness? Does she fill those holes? Does she cradle the wounded and withering parts of your innermost self?_

Phantom Fitz was striking at the parts of Eli that Eli himself did not wish to acknowledge. The twisted sections that often raked at his sanity, shattered his control. No, Clare did not glaze over those gaps and make him whole. She hardly knew even the beginning of those flaws. Those were the spaces that Fitz contoured to perfectly. Somehow he did not have to know why Eli was chipping away in places; he simply sensed each fissure and unknowingly soothed the burns that festered there.

_You can't have both_.

_I know... I know._

Eli felt sick as usual. His insides wrenched and reeled whenever Fitz and Clare tried to share space in his mind. He didn't want to have to decide, and so badly wished that time could be thrown into reverse. Then there would be no infidelity, no nights spent tossing and turning, no Fitz. Everything would be the way it was before – feuding and fighting. He and Clare would be happy together, Fitz would fade away, all would be well. Eli would not be living in fear like he was presently. A tingling fear seeped into his skin as he glanced across the hall at Adam. He wondered if the boy knew his secret. Perhaps he should tell him. After all, he had told Adam about Julia and Adam in turn had explained his own unique situation. If there was anyone who would be even remotely understanding about the secrets that had been forming in dark parks and locker notes, it would be Adam.

The night-shaded scenes rolled around in Eli's head as his friend finally loped over and slumped on the ground next to him once more. He looked somewhat nervous, almost as though he was thinking too hard about not telling Eli what had happened with Bianca. Eli wasn't one to push, but the look on Adam's face had him feeling inexplicably edgy.

"How did it go with the queen of the hit-and-run?"

His friend did not even shoot him a look. Something was not right.

"Adam..."

"Bianca said that Fitz told her something over the weekend – something... unexpected."

Blood rushed from Eli's face and surged into his brain, causing his vision to spin and his head to feel sickeningly light. If Bianca knew, everyone would know. It would spread like wild fire and get to Chantay who would quickly type out a heavily-hyperboled review of the scandal on her tactless gossip blog. This post would be read by Alli – the epitome of stereotypical high school girls – and she would turn immediately to Clare for more details on the compelling tale. Then Clare would know. It would all be over then. Eli hoped that he would be able to reach Clare first and tell her himself. It would not stop the anger or – God forbid – the tears, but letting her find out third-hand through someone else would be inexcusable.

Or perhaps she already knew. Could that be the reason for her lateness? Did she not want to have lunch with him now that she knew what lying, cheating scum he truly was? The thought wrapped its icy fingers around his throat, constricting his airway. He had been such a fool to leave this mess in tangles for so long, burrowing deeper and deeper, hiding behind the thin falsehoods he fed to his own conscience in attempts to rationalize the matter. This was not what he intended. He meant to handle things before they got out of hand, but he had yet to decide on a solution. Having one forced upon him seemed sickly fair in a way.

"Oh no..."

Adam looked at Eli, surprised. "So you already know?"

_What?_ Eli did not understand. Of course he knew. How could he not? Once again something did not seem quite right. Adam seemed just as confused as Eli felt.

"Know about..."

"About Fitzy boy being after Clare."

Eli breathed a soft sigh of relief at the words lingering in the air. He was okay. Bianca did not know about Eli and Fitz's silent affair. She had merely let Adam in on the secrets concerning Fitz and Clare.

_Wait..._

_ What?_

"Fitz... likes Clare?" Eli's head was spinning again. Nothing was adding up. He looked to Adam, hoping for an explanation or perhaps a confession that the statement was another of the boy's ill-formed jokes. To his dismay and utter confusion, he found no lie in his friend's eyes.

"Bee mentioned the word 'love'..." Adam continued cautiously, no doubt waiting for the flash of anger to overcome Eli's face.

"_Love?_ Fitz said that he _loves_ Clare? My girlfriend, Clare?"

"Geez, I'm sorry I'm late, but there's no need to shout."

Shaken by the sudden interruption, both boys snapped their heads up to find Clare standing over them, a vision of perfection shining vibrantly beneath the fluorescents. Eli had not realized the increase in his volume and now felt silly the way he always did when Clare caught him being a little less than suave. However her forgiving smirk soothed his haywire nerves into submission and he was able to return the half-smile as he rose to his feet. Adam bounced up as well, still looking sideways at Eli. Both boys wondered if Clare would ask what they had been talking about seconds before, but it was soon clear that she had heard nothing but her own name over the hallway rumble.

"Shall we?" She was still smiling expectantly at Eli. He threw a nonchalant arm around her and shouldered his bag.

"We shall. Adam here was just about to eat his comic book. We'd better hurry before he turns on us."

Adam punched Eli's arm playfully and led their small pack out the front doors of Degrassi towards Morty with great speed and purpose, eager to arrive at The Dot as soon as possible. Adam and Clare chattered about this and that as Eli started his car and he nodded along as though he were following their conversation. However, behind his blank, smiling eyes his mind seethed and raced. No matter how much Fitz wanted to avoid him, he would not have it anymore. Eli needed answers.

.

-x-x-

.

Buckles clinked against each other on a dark figure's shoes as the shadow paced back and forth, back and forth in the gathering midnight. Clouds of ink and ash blotted out every star that customarily winked over the city at that time. The moon was masked so fully that not even the faintest of beams seeped across the sky. Blackness was all that could be seen, save for a weak orange glow filtering through the leaves from a nearby streetlamp. No one walked about aside from the shadow boy who continued to pace back and forth, back and forth under the watchful eye of an ancient gusting wind. It hung curiously about the tree tops for a while before blustering down to the boy's level and waiting there with him, for it was apparent that the boy's anxiety came from an impatience to meet whomever he expected in the forest half of the park. Sure enough, a taller shadow slipped through the trees and paused, too nervous to continue. Each boy hesitated as though unsure if they were alone or not. As their eyes adjusted, however, the first boy stepped forward purposefully. His words came out low and sharp, and the wind whistled closer to hear:

"...talking about _us_ when in fact it was you and _Clare?_"

"I-I needed an alibi..."

"So you chose _Clare?_"

The taller boy poked a finger in the first boy's chest, suddenly defensive. "Hey, I was about to tell her, but Bee jumped to her own conclusions. I chickened out, I didn't know what to do. So I went with it, okay? To protect myself. To protect _you. _You _and_ your precious Clare." The words dripped with a poisonous contempt that knocked the smaller boy's anger aside.

"Fitz, I didn't-"

"Save it, _Elijah_. I know what you're going to say and frankly, I don't want to hear it."

"You will hear it, _Mark._" Fitz bristled at the name but did not interrupt again. "I didn't want to fight you behind the school. I didn't want to hurt you. But Clare... she surprised me. And then you... on the ground... hitting me and, and yelling..." Eli trailed off as his voice started to catch in his throat. Cautious yet swift, Fitz came close enough to cup Eli's face in his hand.

"You weren't... I mean, behind the school you didn't...?" He could not finish the sentence, but Eli knew the way he always did when certain things went unspoken.

"No," he nearly whispered, resting his fingers tenderly on Fitz's wrist. "I didn't choose her over you."

The silence between them was full like the heavy clouds slung above their heads – full of questions with non-existent answers and nervous tales to be confessed in a later moment. But now was not the time. There were complications as always, fears and echoes of twisted inner monologues, of tortured minds and conflicted hearts, but in the charred darkness there was nothing that could be done. Instead, each boy waded through the weight in the air, struggling to breathe until there was only flesh pressed to flesh, cloth mashed against cloth, sighs of relief at the arrival of a small window in space for them to call their own. Fitz was the first to stretch out on the chilly grass and Eli joined him straight away. They curled into each other quietly, content to feel the night settle upon their unity. Timid fingers found each other and held tight, Eli's ringed thumb circling slowly in Fitz's palm until the taller boy could not take it anymore. He swayed over Eli for a moment to drink in his shaded face - the flop of hair across his forehead, the fullness of his lips, the thought-consuming eyes of burnt jade – before whispering one letter - "E..." - and capturing his boy in a precious, hungry kiss.

**I hope this was satisfactory. I know there was not a lot of development in this chapter, but I adored writing for Bianca and starting to unearth how complex she really is.  
**

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**If you have questions about the story, about me, or if you just want to chat, you can find me on my tumblr (linked in my profile) or on twitter (YouveGotHollis).**

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**


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